


Generational Differences

by Fallynleaf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Men of Letters Bunker, Mentions of Bobby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallynleaf/pseuds/Fallynleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being surrogate fathers of sorts for a young hunter was harder than they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Generational Differences

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after 10x20 "Angel Heart," but contains no spoilers past that episode.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, watching as Dean grabbed his coat and started for the door.

"Jody called. Claire's gone. She left in the middle of the night without telling anybody. Jody thinks she's going after something she read about in the paper." Dean was tense, his body wound up tight with worry because that was an easier feeling, Sam knew.

Sam let out a short sigh. "She's going hunting on her own."

"Yes, and that's why I'm going!" Dean said. "She's good, she can hold her own in a fight, but she's too inexperienced to be going in without backup!"

"Dean..." Sam started.

"Dammit, Sam, I don't want to hear it! Cas is already out working on getting her location. I don't have time for this!"

Sam stood up and walked in front of the door. "No. None of us are going. Claire's a smart kid, she knows what she's capable of, and she knows that she can ask us for help if she's in over her head. We're sitting this one out."

Dean stood there, furious but silent, for a long moment. "No. I'm not willing to risk it."

"Just trust her, Dean," Sam said. "I was her age when I left on my own‒"

"‒I know!" Dean snapped.

"And the most we can do is be right there beside the phone if she needs us. We can be like‒ Bobby," Sam swallowed, the name somewhat hard to say when everything was still a little raw from the last time he'd talked to the man, since he'd read the letter Cas had smuggled out of Heaven for him.

Dean wasn't looking at him, and Sam was grateful for that. Slowly, Dean's shoulders relaxed, and the tension left him and became something like resignation. "I'll contact Cas," Dean said. "Tell him the search is off."

"Y'know," Sam said, after they'd walked back into the room. "We could find out what she's going after. Do some research on our own, just in case."

Dean nodded. "I'll call Jody," he said.

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Sam set his phone to speaker and waited for Claire to pick up.

"What is it?" Claire asked, sounding wary and preemptively annoyed. "I'm fine, and I don't want to go back there right now."

"We've just got some advice for the poltergeist you're hunting," Sam said.

"Do you know how to do a house purification ritual?" Dean asked.

"What, like feng shui?" Claire asked, incredulous.

Dean blinked. "No," he said flatly.

"Then are you telling me to burn some sage and sweep counterclockwise with a broom or something? Okay. Got it, boss."

Dean stood up. "Alright, I'm getting my coat. Bye Sam."

"Dean!" Sam yelled. "And Claire, that's not ‒ Just... get a pen and paper and take some notes. I'll explain what you have to do."

 

* * *

 

Some weeks later, Sam got a phone call. "Hey, where do you guys live again?" Claire's voice asked on the other end.

"Claire?" Sam asked.

"Yes, it's me. Just... I'm about an hour out from Lebanon."

Sam told her how to locate the Bunker.

An hour later, Sam opened the door for her and showed her inside, where Cas and Dean were both waiting and trying not to look like that's all they were busy doing.

"Sorry for just stopping by out of nowhere like this," Claire said bluntly. "I just need a place to lie low for a couple days, and I figured that's kind of what the Bunker was designed for."

"You may stay as long as you need, Claire," Cas said.

"Don't worry, I won't be here long. I'll head out as soon as I can," Claire said.

"Uh, do you wanna pick a room?" Dean asked. "I'll carry your bag for you."

Claire leaned away from him. "It's fine. I got it. Just tell me which rooms are free, and I'll take any of them."

After Claire picked a room that was not Sam's or Dean's, or Charlie's (or Kevin's), Sam and Dean and Cas ambushed her in the main room.

"So, you want to tell us what's going on?" Dean asked.

"No," Claire said. "Not really. It's none of your business, and besides, none of you can help." She frowned.

"Then I know what we're going to do," Dean said. "We're going to watch a movie. You and me and Sam and Cas. Cas probably knows what happens in it already, but I don't think he's seen it, and I know Sam hasn't, because he's allergic to fun."

"What, is it the sequel to _Caddyshack_?" Claire asked.

Dean's face darkened. " No. That film is an abomination."

 

* * *

 

That evening, Dean cooked dinner, and all four of them sat down in the kitchen to eat it. Claire tried to feign nonchalance, but after she took her first couple bites, her hunger betrayed just how long it had been since she had had a good meal.

None of them asked, though Sam knew they all wanted to.

Claire got up as soon as she was done eating, claiming to be tired from the drive. Sam stood at the sink and helped Dean wash the dishes in silence.

"This sucks," Dean said, furiously scrubbing a pan.

"Yeah," Sam said. He towel-dried their plates, then stacked them back on the shelf.

"How did Bobby ever put up with us?"

Sam paused, dish towel poised over the surface of the table. _Because he loved us_ , Sam thought, but he didn't say it aloud.

"I mean, we only called when we needed help, and half the time we didn't even check in at the end of a case to let him know we were alive." Dean roughly dropped the pan into the sink full of non-soapy water, then picked up the dirty cutting board. "And whenever we visited him, we never stayed longer than a couple days. A few weeks, tops. When, y'know..." _When someone had just died and we needed to cling to all of the family we had left_ , Sam filled in.

"Maybe if we ask her, Claire will stop by for Christmas," Sam said.

" _Christmas_ sucks," Dean said.

"I know, but it's‒" Sam stopped, then started the sentence again. "You wanted it a couple years ago, remember?"

"I was dying, Sam. It was going to be my last one." Dean sounded tired, almost. "Hell, who says we'll even make it to our next Christmas?"

" _I_ do," Sam said softly.

Dean took his hands out of the sink. Before Sam realized what was happening, Dean had stepped over to him and was rubbing his wet, soapy hands all over Sam's shirt. "Hey!" Sam said, wriggling away.

"That was for trying to turn this into a Hallmark moment, Sammy," Dean said.

Sam frowned at him, then his eyes caught movement, and he turned away from Dean and found Cas standing in the doorway.

"Claire is fine," Cas said. "She explained the details of her situation to me."

"What was she hunting?" Dean asked.

Cas looked uncomfortable. "I cannot tell you that," he said. "I... gave her my word. I just wanted you both to know that she is safe, so you don't need to be worried."

Dean started to say something, but Sam cut him off: "Thanks, Cas."

 

* * *

 

The next day, they watched another movie, but Claire was starting to get a little antsy, so Sam took her into the shooting range and helped her with her technique.

Then Dean brought out a deck of playing cards in the early evening. The casual card games eventually became a practical poker lesson, but Claire seemed to enjoy it anyways. She was laughing, at least. And teasing all three of them, but especially Cas, who seemed entirely incapable of grasping the game.

The day after that, Sam showed Claire the Men of Letters' library, and then he left her alone with the books, and none of them saw her until dinner that night. After Claire had gone to bed, Sam tried to figure out which books she had been looking at, but she had done a phenomenal job clearing her tracks, wiping down entire shelves so that the dust didn't betray her. Dean was right: the kid was good.

And the next morning, Claire had her bag packed and slung over her shoulder.

"Guess what? You don't have to play babysitter anymore," she said. "This was fun and all, but I'll be getting out of your hair now."

Sam had seen this coming the moment she showed up at the door, but it still made his heart feel a little heavy.

"Not yet, you aren't," Dean said. Sam watched as Dean took a step toward Claire, then stopped and held out his arms.

"Thought you weren't the hugging type," Claire commented.

"Just shut up and come over here," Dean growled. "You're not leaving until you do."

Claire rolled her eyes, but she hugged Dean anyways. Then she looked over at Sam, and he felt relieved when she stepped over and threw her arms around him, too. Cas got the final hug.

After that, they all said goodbye, and then Claire was gone, her car pulling out onto the road and fading into the horizon.

"We'll hear from her soon," Sam said. "Hunting's a big job. She knows we can help."

"Yeah," Dean said. After a long moment, the corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. He turned back towards the entrance to the Bunker, then reached up and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "What'd I tell you, Sam? You've got nothing to worry about. She'll be fine."


End file.
